


Spellbound

by Laylah



Category: Last Remnant
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Community: areyougame, Fascination, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-13
Updated: 2010-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:52:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't so simple as attraction, though that is certainly part of it; David has been smitten with other handsome young men before this, even if he must admit that none of them were quite like Rush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spellbound

There is something about Rush that fascinates David from the first moment they meet. It's irrational; he has practice enough at examining his motivations to know when he is lacking good reasons. And there _are_ good reasons to keep Rush close, between his family's connections and his unusual abilities, but none of those good reasons make David's heart race, or make the hairs prickle alert on the back of his neck when Rush looks at him.

It isn't even so simple as attraction, though that is certainly part of it; David has been smitten with other handsome young men before this, even if he must admit that none of them were quite so...straightforward as Rush. There is a simplicity and a directness to Rush's manner that disrupts his expectations quite pleasantly. Nor is David the only one; at times it seems that all of Athlum's people, from the castle guards to the Xiphos shopkeepers to the rough mercenaries of the Warrior's Honor, find Rush irresistible. True, Torgal cants his ears disapprovingly and mutters about strange smells, but it's his job to be suspicious, and he is the only one with complaints.

The fascination becomes maddening, the longer it goes on. For all that David _knows_ he has other responsibilities, other priorities, he keeps coming back to Rush: Rush, with his easy laughter, with his casual gestures, with his warm smiles. Everything he does suggests that there is _more_ beneath it, if only David could tease out why and how.

When the revelation comes, he's amazed he didn't figure it out before.

He encounters Rush one evening -- runs into Rush, quite literally -- in one of the small side passages of the private wing of the castle, as Rush comes around a corner apparently in quite a hurry. David stumbles, recovers himself as best he can. "Rush?" he says. "What's the trouble?"

"Oh, ah, nothing," Rush says, looking past him. "I was just on my way out to catch a bite to eat, that's all."

"I see." David frowns. "Has -- has the castle chef disappointed you?"

Rush blinks at him for a moment uncomprehendingly, and then smiles. "No, no, it's fine. Great, really, the guy's talented." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "This is kind of a special needs thing, that's all."

"Anything you need," David says, "I would be happy to provide for you."

"It's a little embarrassing," Rush says. His smile is crooked and disarming, and in the low light his skin is practically luminous. His already abundant charm has become nearly unbearable; David feels ridiculous for how desperately he wants to make Rush happy.

"You can count on my discretion," David promises.

Rush looks down, and mumbles something David doesn't quite catch.

"I'm sorry?" David says.

"...Blood," Rush says. He fidgets. "So, ah, see you later!"

He tries to slip past, but David grabs his arm to stop him. "Wait." Rush's skin is cold under his fingers, which makes sense, given what he's admitted, but -- "I wouldn't have thought you were -- truly?" David says. "You're a...?"

Rush looks pained. "Yeah," he says. He's tense, as if he's still planning to flee. "Yeah, I am. It's...not as bad as it sounds?" He smiles uncomfortably. "I'm not hurting your citizens, Dave, I promise. I'm not like that."

"You're -- of course you aren't," David says. No matter _what_ Rush is, David already knows _who_ he is, and there are few people so compassionate anywhere. "Isn't there a way we could, ah, accommodate you?" he asks. Rush blinks at him. "A special request with a discreet butcher, something like that...?"

"Oh. No, 'fraid not," Rush says. "I don't need a lot to keep me going, but it has to be from other mitra." He shrugs helplessly. "Couldn't tell you why -- it doesn't _taste_ all that different -- but nothing else does the trick. I mean, Irina's the brains of the outfit. She could probably tell you some good theories, at least. Me, I just go with what works."

Now that he knows to be looking, David imagines he can see the faint, telltale extension of Rush's eye teeth, slightly too long and too sharp to be normal. He wonders what they feel like, whether the bite is as pleasurable in truth as in folklore; the idea makes him feel flushed, warm, the intimacy dizzying to contemplate.

Rush swallows hard. "I should really get going," he says. "I'm, ah, pretty hungry, and you -- never mind."

David opens his mouth to ask Rush to finish that sentence, and then stops himself. He can guess what Rush was about to say. It makes his heart pound, makes him suddenly conscious of his pulse -- beating strongly beneath his jaw, and in the fingertips still curled around Rush's wrist. "You don't need a lot," he repeats softly. "And if I were offering?"

"Oh, man," Rush says. "Please don't be teasing." He looks David in the eyes and the force of his hunger, his desire, is so potent it makes David weak in the knees. "It's taking everything I've got not to jump you right now."

"We should," David says very carefully, trying not to let his voice shake, "go somewhere more private than this."

"Wow," Rush says. "Yeah, totally."

Rush's room is marginally closer; more importantly, they're less likely to be interrupted there. David follows him inside, thinking again of folklore as he crosses the threshold -- in the old tales, Rush's kind must be invited into one's house, and here David sent an entire squadron of soldiers to tender Rush his invitation. The thought would be alarming -- what they plan to do doubly so -- were it anyone but Rush.

He's smiling when he turns to David, sweet and hopeful. "I gotta ask one more time," he says. "You're sure you're cool with this?"

David nods. "I'm sure," he says. "You wouldn't harm me."

"Never," Rush says. "Man, Emma would stake me so hard." He's grinning when he says it, but wryly; he believes it.

"I'm sure," David says. But that's too sober a thought, nothing he wants to dwell on. "Good thing you'll give her no cause."

"Right," Rush says. He opens his arms, welcoming, and David wants nothing more than to step into his embrace.

When he does, Rush is solid and strong against him -- not warm, and that's disorienting, but nowhere near enough to offset the power that he clearly holds. Power for Athlum, David thinks. A different sort than he was expecting from his alliance with Rush, but he cannot argue. Rush's arms slide round his waist, and Rush leans close, lips just brushing against the bare skin of David's throat.

And then he guides David backward, pushing gently, until David's back is to the door. "You're, ah, probably not going to want to worry about keeping your balance," he says. His breath makes David shiver, and it sounds as though he's grinning.

"Boasting?" David asks, though he doesn't doubt it; Rush slides his hands up to unbuckle the collar around David's throat, his hands achingly gentle.

"Well," Rush says. "Maybe a little."

He still doesn't bite, only nuzzles, drawing slow breaths and barely letting his lips touch David's hammering pulse. Being so passive, _waiting_ for it, is maddening. "You're a horrible tease," David says, and his voice comes out far shakier than he'd like.

Rush laughs. "Sorry," he says. "You smell so good, and I've been wanting this for ages. I'm...trying to draw it out, I guess."

"You've wanted this," David says. He curls his fingers in the belt loops of Rush's trousers and drags him closer. "From me."

"Marion, yes," Rush says. He leans into David, communicating his need with his entire body, the press of his weight pinning David against the door. "It's been driving me crazy."

It's David's turn to laugh then, nuzzling at the soft fall of Rush's hair. "I'd been afraid I was the only one," he says. He's excruciatingly conscious of his own heartbeat, and the coolness of Rush's lips against his skin. How warm must he seem? "Rush," he murmurs. "I want this."

Rush moans -- at the words? at the feel of David's pulse beneath the skin? at some subtle cue of scent that David's mitra senses cannot detect? -- and presses his mouth to the soft hollow beneath David's jaw. No more holding back; the moment is now. David holds his breath --

And there is an instant of pain as Rush's fangs pierce his flesh, but it's bearable, and in its wake comes a rush of giddy, lethargic pleasure like nothing David has felt before. He feels weightless and slow, conscious of the beat of his blood through his veins, buoyed up by a sense of euphoria he can't resist. Rush's mouth works at his throat, lips and tongue teasing at the wound he's made, and the sensation is so raw, so viscerally erotic, that David can barely stifle a sob. His cock stiffens, and he rocks his hips, pushing toward Rush helplessly.

Rush laughs, the sound muffled against David's neck, and reaches down between them, making surprisingly short work of the belts and laces in his way. His hand curls around David's cock, easy, confident, and David makes another undignified sound. This is a strange sort of pleasure, a delicious languor that makes him want to simply surrender to the steady matched rhythms of Rush's mouth and hand. He feels vaguely as though he should be _doing_ something -- this is terribly one-sided, isn't it? -- but he can't bring himself to move, can only give in to the glorious sensations as Rush suckles and strokes him.

When climax comes, it rises almost without warning, the drifting pleasure of Rush's bite melting into the immediate, sharp peak of orgasm. David shudders, gasping, clutching at Rush's shirt to steady himself.

Rush licks delicately at David's throat once, twice, then pulls back. There's a warm, pink flush to his cheeks now, and his lips are rosy. He has a tiny smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. "That was great," he says. "You taste even -- um. Sorry. I'll try not to get too weird on you."

David shakes his head. "You aren't," he says. He reaches up to touch his throat experimentally, finds the skin whole and not even tender. "That was...enough to satisfy you?"

"Uh," Rush says, looking surprised. "Well, um."

The fog is clearing from David's brain now that Rush has fed; he feels in command of himself once more. "Because I had more in mind," he says. He reaches out to catch Rush by the nape and leans in to claim a kiss. When Rush's lips part, he can taste the sharp copper of his own blood, but that doesn't deter him, and it's only a moment before Rush is returning his enthusiasm. And Rush turns out to be a wonderful kisser, friendly and welcoming and sensual.

"Yeah," he says when David releases his mouth, "I could definitely be up for more."

"Perhaps we should move to your bed, then," David says. He smiles. "You won't want to be worried about keeping your balance."

Rush grins, taking the first step back. "Boasting?" he says.

David shrugs. "Maybe a little," he says, his smile tugging a little wider. From the way Rush lets himself be pushed down onto the bed, though, David is fairly certain he doesn't mind a bit.


End file.
